Carlos quickly ran off the field, feeling a bit down. His performance in this match wasn't up to par. Even though the newly appointed head coach had given him two starts, his form was still poor. After the transfer window closed, the club brought in a young forward on loan from Real Madrid. Carlos feared that he would soon be relegated back to the bench.
Despite his frustration, Carlos, who had a good temperant, didn't show any dissatisfaction towards Eto'o. After exchanging a hug with him, Carlos went straight off the field, shook hands with José, and sat back down on the bench.
While Carlos felt a little down, Eto'o, who had just stepped onto the field, was in high spirits. It had been nearly two seasons since he last played in an official match, and he was eager to prove himself. The cheetah could only show its value when it was allowed to run freely across the grasslands; being confined in a cage made it no more than a common lynx.
Though excited, Eto'o didn't forget his tasks. First, he ran to N'Gonga's side to tell the captain that the coach wanted him to make more long passes. Then he ran over to Tristan.
"Hey, Samuel, didn't think we'd be partnering up so soon!" Tristan said with a smile.
Eto'o grinned and replied, "Diego, the boss wants to tell you, if there's a direct long ball from the back, you should go for the first header and pass it forward. After that, it's my job."
"Oh, I see." Tristan nodded but then, as if rembering sothing, widened his eyes, "So that ans I'm just setting you up? Hey, I'm the main character here!"
"It's the boss's instructions," Eto'o calmly responded.
"Uh, if the boss said so, then fine," Tristan agreed, but then puffed out his chest and added, "But if you don't turn my assist into a goal, I'm coming for you!"
Eto'o didn't imdiately get a chance to touch the ball. By now, Numancia had pushed up high on the field. As a newly promoted team, they didn't need to worry much about the future; they just needed to focus on each match, taking three points when possible. If not, one point would suffice. Now that they were behind, they had to press forward. If they could equalize, great; if they couldn't, losing by one or two goals wasn't that different.
Facing Numancia's offensive pressure, Mallorca began to fall back—sothing they were good at, especially when leading.
Numancia had no reservations, knowing that while Mallorca's defense wasn't easy to break, it wasn't impossible to breach. Besides, everyone knew Mallorca's counterattacks weren't particularly fast, so as long as they paid attention, they could handle it.
Clearly, they didn't know Eto'o well. Even though Eto'o had played for two years in La Liga, he had only appeared in three matches, mostly as a winger. José had to thank the previous coaches who had trained Eto'o.
Eto'o road in the forward area, but he didn't neglect to observe the situation behind him. The match was reaching a boiling point. Even though the ho stadium could only hold three thousand fans, Numancia's supporters still filled the air with their collective chants.
Despite being in a small town of fewer than 40,000 people and playing in a stadium that could only hold 3,000, their identity felt no different from the top clubs—after all, they were also playing in the top league!
Midfielder Pacheta, 30 ters from goal, gritted his teeth and took a long shot with his right foot!
The shot was of high quality, flying fast into the penalty box, passing in front of Nino, and heading straight for the top right corner!
Franco leaped into the air, stretching his fingers as much as possible and just managing to flick the ball, which slightly changed direction, hitting the far post. The ball then bounced back into the penalty area. A Numancia forward pounced on it, but seeing no angle for a shot, he quickly passed the ball to the far corner. Nadal, retreating, got to it first and headed it out of the box, montarily alleviating Mallorca's crisis!
Soler tackled the ball to N'Gonga, but a Numancia midfielder imdiately rushed at him, not allowing Mallorca's captain to easily organize the play. The previous gas had shown that Mallorca's attacks seed to rely on just a few key players: N'Gonga distributing the ball, Stankovic or Ibagasa making runs, and Tristan attacking the center...
But this ti, Mallorca had sothing new in mind.
With the pressure on, N'Gonga couldn't quickly and accurately distribute to the wings. But now, he had another way to attack.
Seeing the pressure coming, N'Gonga swung his right foot and sent a long clearance!
"N'Gonga with a big clearance... hmm, worth ntioning, this is N'Gonga's first clearance of the match. As Mallorca's midfield pivot, maybe it's because the coach has instructed him, but he usually distributes the ball after receiving it, which slows Mallorca's attack but ensures chances are created. This counterattacking style is different from the one used by Cooper. Anyway, this clearance is clean, and it's better than risking a mistake when holding onto the ball in the back..."
With the comntator's words trailing off, N'Gonga's clearance, which looked like a defensive clear, flew straight toward the center circle, where Tristan sprinted forward and, beating a defender to the first ball, jumped to head it.
This ti, however, unlike before, Tristan didn't control the ball or head it back for a pass; instead, he redirected it toward Numancia's half.
"Tristan heads the ball toward Numancia's half—wait, this is a bit of a rushed move! There are no Mallorca players in Numancia's half to receive the ball, and it's easy for Numancia to quickly reorganize. If he had held the ball a bit longer to wait for his teammates, the attack could have been better, at least allowing the defense to rest... Oh! Who's that? What speed!"
A red-and-black blur raced from the Mallorca half, like a lightning bolt cutting through the clear sky, leaving an indelible mark across the horizon!
At the mont Tristan headed the ball, Eto'o was still near the center circle. By the ti the ball reached Numancia's half, Eto'o had already accelerated to full speed, his movents fluid and swift, like a cheetah on the hunt! The distance between him and the two Numancia defenders, who were initially five ters ahead, quickly shrank to four ters, then three, two...
Finally, as the ball bounced upon hitting the ground, Eto'o surged ahead, passing the two center-backs and stretching his leg to flick the ball forward, then dribbling toward goal!
"He's caught up! Eto'o has caught up to the ball! One-on-one! His speed is incredible! Let's see what happens next... oh, he's approaching the edge of the penalty area, and Numancia's goalkeeper is charging out!"
As the ball dropped, Numancia's goalkeeper, Nunez, had already abandoned his goal, and his decision was correct, but he had underestimated Eto'o's speed. By the ti Eto'o received the ball, Nunez had yet to leave the penalty box. When Eto'o stopped the ball, Nunez imdiately began retreating, but his legs tangled up...
Facing the rushing Nunez, Eto'o decisively took a shot in stride!
As the ball flew from his foot, Nunez dived in a hurry, but was a step too late. The ball slid through his armpit and headed toward the goal...
Numancia's fans held their breath as the ball rolled quickly across the ground. But just before it could cross the line, it struck the far post and rolled across the baseline, much to their relief!
José leaned back in his seat, feeling a twinge of regret.
Though he believed in Eto'o's potential, missing the chance to extend their lead left him a little disheartened. A one-goal lead wasn't enough—if they could make it two, the ga would practically be sealed!
But... the attack wasn't over!
Eto'o, despite his brief pause after the shot, continued running toward the goal. As Numancia's defenders scrambled, Eto'o got to the ball first. He shielded it under heavy pressure from two defenders, one cutting off his shooting lane, the other pushing him toward the baseline.
In the midst of the struggle, Eto'o looked up and saw a red-and-black figure sprinting toward him.
Without ti to identify the teammate, Eto'o shoved the defenders away, lifting his foot to pass the ball back.
Stankovic, who had been the furthest forward in the counterattack, was there to receive it. Without hesitation, he launched the ball toward the far corner of the net!
"Goal! This will seal the victory!" José jumped to his feet, fist pumping in the air!
The ball flew toward the far post with incredible speed. Nunez, still recovering, lunged but could only grab air as the ball sped into the net. The stadium erupted in a sigh of defeat from the Numancia fans!
Stankovic ran toward the sidelines, arms wide, and José leapt in the air, shouting, "Well done, Yuvan!"
With a roar from the few hundred Mallorca fans in the stands, the players huddled together in celebration. With only twenty minutes remaining, Mallorca's victory was almost secured.
Eto'o joined his teammates, embracing them in celebration. Despite missing his own goal, his assist was invaluable. For a player who had just joined, that was already an impressive contribution!
José, after seeing the celebration, patted Eto'o's shoulder with a smile. "Well done, Samuel. Keep it up!"
Eto'o felt the last shred of regret fade away. He nodded, understanding, and ran back onto the field.
"It's okay, missing a goal isn't the end. As long as the coach believes in , I'll keep working hard!"
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